


No Place Like Home

by lotsofthinkythoughts (Mianna)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Implied Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:40:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9149023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mianna/pseuds/lotsofthinkythoughts
Summary: The future is another country. Sometimes it's hard to find home.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for bisexualhayesmorrisons on Tumblr for the SteggySecretSanta exchange

_“I’ve gotta put her in the water,” Steve said, looking at her as she fiddled with the radio, trying to get someone on the line._

_She didn’t acknowledge the words. She focused on the panel in front of her, but her shoulders were tense and the red nails of her empty hand bit into her palm. They had both looked at the instruments panel. It didn’t take fluency to know that whatever Schmidt had pressed earlier had locked them on course to New York. There wasn’t any choice, and they both knew it. The plane had to go down, and the only way to accomplish that now was to do it manually._

_“Peggy?”_

_She looked over at him, her hair mussed and falling in her eyes after the fighting with Schmidt. She watched him with resignation for a moment. She’d always known there was the possibility that they might not live to see the end of the war, but right now it was overwhelming. She sighed and went still, when Steve reached out to take her hand, gently pressing his gloved fingers against her clenched ones, prompting her fingers uncurling to wrap tightly around his. Some of the tension ebbed away from her frame, but there was a fear there that wouldn’t be assuaged with a mere touch._

_“If I could just find the bloody frequency-” Peggy grumbled, adjusting the radio panel with her free hand. There was a pop and crackle before static._

_“I’m sorry, Peggy.”_

_She sighed. “I know.”_

_Ice stretched across the horizon, a white blanket. There was a moment of regret and pain for all the things neither of them would get to see now. All those plans and promises they’d both acknowledged but never quite made were going to end here in the cold. When Steve let go of her hand to take hold of the stick, Peggy laid her hand on top of his and nodded._

_Together, they pushed, sending the plane careening down toward the ice below._

_“I guess we won’t make that dance after all,” Steve said, looking at her. He laughed, a sad chuckle that sent a lance through her heart. “Probably for the best, I would have hated to step on your toes.”_

_Peggy was tempted to laugh. Of all the things for him to worry about- even if it was for nothing. “Far worse things have happened to me than you stepping on my toes, Steve.”_

_He smiled sadly. “We could have had the band play something slow.”_

Peggy woke gasping, a sharp prickle running across her skin like needles. It was a feeling of ice in her veins. She had dreamed of the crash before, the feeling of the wind and the cold and the searing pain that followed. It was never the same twice, sometimes she dreamed of other horrors: of the Schmidt’s red skull laughing as the plane went down in flames and the feel of blood pooling at her feet and covering her hands.

In some ways, the memories were a blessing- but that didn’t stop the bone deep cold that followed. With a shiver, she pulled herself free from the covers; the air in the apartment wasn’t nearly warm enough to combat the cold she felt, so she reached into the drawer of the bedside table for the single jumper and pair of socks she kept there.

Tiredly, she ran a hand through her hair as she crept through the  darkened apartment to the kitchen. She paused halfway, glancing at the closed door to Steve’s room and thinking for a moment of knocking on it.

In the two weeks since they had moved into the apartment SHIELD provided, they’d spent more time alone together than they had been allowed during the war. They weren’t entirely alone, agents stopped by often, presumably to help them both adjust to this new century they’d been dropped into though more the most part it seemed more like monitoring them. Days were spent trying to navigate the changes between 1945 and 2012.

The nights were filled with nightmares and memories.

Peggy caught herself taking a step closer to Steve’s door, her hand reaching out almost of it’s own accord. She pulled her hand back sharply; he might not have said anything but Peggy knew he was sleeping as well as she was, or wasn’t rather. He didn’t sport the dark circles around the eyes like most would, but Peggy remembered the curl of his shoulders when he’d stood watch for three days running during a mission on the Polish border and the slow way he blinked and stared into the middle distance when he stood still.

She wouldn’t interrupt his sleep now over something as trivial as a memory.

The kettle was already on the stove, so it was easy to fall into the routine of making tea without thought. The dream lingered at the front of her mind as she moved through the motions of preparing her mug (teabags were a godsend at midnight). She didn’t regret the choice they’d made, but the loss of all the friendships and possibilities that had existed was a sharp blow.

Peggy wasn’t sure how long she stood staring out the kitchen window with her fingers wrapped tightly around the steaming mug. She was lost in thought, wondering not for the first time how her mother had reacted when she received the news. Her mother had been so vehemently against the idea of her joining the war effort that Peggy had been afraid that she might never forgive her.

That had turned out to be unfounded, but her mother’s greatest fear had become all too real. She might not be dead, but she never would go home. They were gone.

“You too?”

Peggy jerked slightly, the tea sloshing up over the lip of her mug at the sound of Steve’s voice. She turned to look at him over her shoulder. The telltale curve in his shoulders was there as bold as a sign.

“I didn’t mean to wake you-”

“You didn’t. I… couldn’t sleep.”

Peggy wondered at the pause, at what Steve might not be saying. She wanted to help, but right now, she didn’t know how. Steve took a few steps closer, walking up behind her. They weren’t quite touching, but it was close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.

They stood there in silence for a long moment, until Steve spoke again.

“I was going to go to the gym. If you want-”

Peggy set her mug on the counter. “I’d love to.”

—

Peggy looked over the pages in front of her, considering them carefully. She was already a part of the Avengers team, and even if she wasn’t Peggy had no doubt that Steve would have dragged her in at every opportunity he found. He knew she hated being idle as much as he did. There had been a steep learning curve to this new century, but even that didn’t fully keep away the twitchiness that came with doing nothing. For so long her life had been busy, filled with missions and work, that becoming a civilian was an uncomfortable shift. After the war, maybe things would have been different, it might have felt less like cutting a part of herself adrift (privately Peggy doubted that).

"Any questions?” Deputy Director Hill asked from behind her desk, sipping a cup of coffee.

Peggy shook her head. There were a few lines referring to gun certification and hand to hand training, but given the circumstances, they weren’t unreasonable. Peggy also had the sneaking suspicion that they were standard for all SHIELD employees.

“Missions requiring the Avengers have top priority, so those override any other active operations. Your ops will work more or less like Barton and Romanoff’s, in fact, you might work with them for a while.”

Peggy blinked in surprise, given that Steve had gone through a similar process a few days before, there had been the assumption that she was going to be working with him again.

Not that it mattered, Peggy told herself resolutely. This job was just another step of integrating into this brave new world they had found themselves adrift in. There was no way to cut the past off entirely, and she certainly wouldn’t try, but not spending twelve hours a day together might not be bad for either of them. They hadn’t exactly made many friends over the past month.

Still, she couldn’t help but ask. “Not Captain Rogers?”

Hill looked up from the papers she had been consulting. “There’s at least three textbooks on how well you and Rogers work together. We know that, and how effective you are. What we don’t know is how well you two work with other people. Right now, Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff are the ones you are both most familiar with, so that’s where we’ll start, and build teams around your individual strengths from there.”

Peggy nodded, and pressed the pen to paper.

—

Steve felt himself caught between a laugh and a frown as he watched Peggy at the shooting range. Clint was down there as well, with his bow, and at this point it seemed more like they were having a competition than actual target practice.

Judging by Peggy’s expression, she was losing.

It was so similar to many moments from his memories - all a lifetime ago and yet only yesterday at the same time. Steve remembered a cold night in France, when Peggy and Bucky had shot rusty cans from the fence posts of an abandoned farmhouse.

_“Go on Carter- I bet you can’t make that shot.”_

_“You’ve said that about the last three, Barnes. I’d think by now you’d have learned.”_

_Dugan tipped his flask back. “Barnes doesn’t learn, Peg, you oughta know that by now.”_

_Morita snorted from the other side of the fire, catching Steve’s attention for a second. When he turned back, Bucky was scowling at Dugan over his shoulder, but flashed a grin at him after a moment. “I’ll remember that next time you need me to save your ass, Dum Dum.”_

_Dugan opened his mouth to reply, but it was cut short but the sound of a shots fired in the distance. In an instant, they were all on their feet._

_“Time to go to work, boys.” Peggy said, holstering her pistol and reaching for the M-1 propped beside Steve’s knee._

“Worried?” Natasha asked, watching his reflection in the glass.

“What’s to worry about?”

“You’re not quite as stoic as you think, Rogers.”

Steve turned away from the view to look at Natasha, his brow furrowing as his mouth turned down. Natasha raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Finally, Steve sighed and looked back down at where Clint and Peggy were still shooting. The past would always be there, and no amount of wishing could take them back there.

“Just memories,” Steve said.

—

Peggy dodged the fist headed her way, spinning to the left and grabbing her opponent’s wrist and pulling her arm back into a half-nelson. It wasn’t necessarily the most useful move in Peggy’s repertoire given that in actual combat, this would be the point Peggy would slam someone’s head into a table or desk or other suitably sturdy surface. As it was, the move was followed by a shove, in an attempt to throw Natasha off-balance. It succeeded, but only for a moment before the redhead was rushing at her with long strides, before catching Peggy in a hold, pinning both arms down.

“What are you and Rogers doing this weekend?”

Peggy frowned, her brow wrinkling in confusion. “Nothing, as far as I’m aware,” she said, before slamming her head backwards into Natasha’s nose.

The motion broke her hold, but not long enough to press an advantage. In the time it had taken for Peggy to turn and set herself up for an offensive, Natasha was already on the attack herself, using her gymnastics to sweep Peggy’s legs out from under her.

“You two should come by. We’ll have pizza. Watch movies.”

Natasha lingered over her for a moment, before she offered Peggy a hand up. That was clearly a signal their sparring was meant to be done, but she wasn’t about to miss an open opportunity. She reached up to take Natasha’s hand and pulled her down to the ground before pinning her there.

“Alright,” Peggy said, stepping away and dusting her hands off. “I’ll talk to Steve this evening.”

“I’ll text you the address.”

—

Steve winced as the medic peeled away the fibers from the gash in his side. The wound itself was already healing, the bleeding slowed to a sluggish ooze when pressed and new pink skin forming at the edges. The suit wasn’t quite as sturdy as expected, and had shredded when the bullet grazed him in the middle of the last mission. They hadn’t had the tools to deal with it on the way back to SHIELD headquarters, which was how he ended up sitting in medical waiting for the medic to finish peeling out the fibers one by one with a pair of tweezers.

This wasn’t the first injury he’d had since picking up with SHIELD, but it was the first that left him sitting with nothing to do but think.

It had been nearly five months since he and Peggy had woken. During the war he had told her once that he would show her Brooklyn,  _(“The parts of it I didn’t get beat up in.” Bucky had snorted and said “So, your apartment?”  Steve had managed to get him back with a snowball to the face a couple of days later._ _)_ but now it wasn’t home to him anymore than it was to her. They’d gone nonetheless, and he’d pointed out the similarities he could find. He’d also groused about the Dodgers leaving and going across the whole country, while they leaned against the railing of the Bridge.

It wasn’t like he’d imagined it when he was sketching in the cold at night with the last edges of pencils or when they sat by the fire on watch, but it wasn’t all bad.

“Captain Rogers?” The medic pressed a bandage onto his side, and looked up at him. “That’s all. You can go now.”

“Thanks.” Steve nodded and pulled his shirt on.

The walk back to the apartment wasn’t long, but it was enough for Steve to come to a conclusion. He and Peggy had fallen into something resembling a routine in the last four months. They spent the majority of their free hours together. They spent nights curled around each other in bed taking comfort in each other and fighting off the bone-deep cold and fear that crept in during dreams. They had everything- and yet nothing was official.

At first, there had been some distance as they both processed waking up in a future that seemed so far removed from their own. After the Chitauri and Loki that had all but disappeared, figuratively and literally. There were no more separate bedrooms after that, or nights spent destroying punching bags to try and quiet the memories that screamed in his head.

He hadn’t really thought about it before today, but now that he had, Steve couldn’t understand why they were still circling. He knew what he wanted, it was the same thing he always had. The only question was if Peggy wanted it too.

When he slipped into the apartment, he found Peggy stretched out on the sofa reading a book. She didn’t look up as he approached, simply lifting her feet for him to sit on the sofa with her. He sank back against the cushions and wondered how to begin. He’d always assumed that when he brought marriage up he’d have a plan. But all the plans he’d had- they were for before.

“Steve?”

He looked over at her as she shifted, pulling her feet out of his lap and placing them on the floor.

“Peggy-” he paused, trying to find the best way to say this. “Do you want to get married?”

So much for the best way, Steve thought.

She didn’t say anything for a long time. “In general? Or to you specifically?”

“Either. Both.”

“It’s never been one of my greatest aspirations. My mother always hoped I might meet a man during the war.” Peggy looked down and laughed slightly. “I suppose I did.”

Steve reached for her hand. “Peggy, marry me? I’ve loved you for so long now. I think I first started falling for you the first time I saw you- when you punched Hodge in the nose.”

“You would.” Peggy murmured, and Steve squeezed her hand and laughed.  

“Yeah. I know things aren’t exactly like we talked about, but I love you, and I want to marry you. If that’s what you want.”

Instead of words, Peggy reached over and pulled him into a kiss, twisting slightly so she could pull him down on top of her, as she laid back on the sofa. His hands skimmed along her sides, his thumbs brushing against skin where her shirt had shifted. He pulled it up farther, revelling in the feel of her skin under his hands, it was a sensation he was sure he’d never get enough of. Her hands twisted in his hair, keeping him close as if there was anywhere else he’d rather be.

It was only when he felt her let go and her hand moved from his hair to his belt that he realized she hadn’t actually given him an answer. With a groan, he pulled away, his nose brushing against her cheek. “Peggy, that isn’t an answer.”

“Yes, it is.”

Steve kissed her again, because how could he not; she was stubborn and beautiful and ridiculous and he loved her for it.

“It’s really not.”

“No, Steve,” Peggy laughed, deep and real. She looked him in the eye and repeated herself slowly, emphasizing her words again.  “Yes, it is.”

She ran her fingers through his hair as his brow furrowed. He thought back to how he had asked.

“Oh,” he said.

Peggy laughed again, and pulled him back down for another kiss.

–

“So are we pretending that you two aren’t wearing rings or what?”

Steve looked over at Clint, who drinking his beer as if he hadn’t said anything. They hadn’t invited anyone to the wedding, in fact, it had been as quick an affair as possible. They’d used the internet to find out how quickly they could get married and in the space of a weekend it was done. Peggy had looked at the prices of wedding dresses and balked, her eyes going wide before immediately telling him that that was an expense she wasn’t willing to pay. He would have liked to see her in a white dress, but he was happy enough to just be married to her. Neither of them had given much thought to what their new friends might think.

“You were busy.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow as she dropped into Clint’s lap. He swiftly moved his beer out of the way to accommodate her. “It’s more surprising that you aren’t telling everyone who walks by.” she said, tilting the neck of her own beer toward Peggy.

“I thought about it.” Steve said, pulling Peggy that much closer. He couldn’t see her from this angle, but he knew she was rolling her eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Apparently there are fines for noise complaints.”

—

“Tony called earlier.”

Steve looked up from his sketchpad. “What?”

“You had a meeting with Fury. Tony Stark called.”

“I caught that part. What I don’t understand is why.”

Steve and Tony Stark hadn’t exactly hit it off. Even after Loki had been caught and sent back to Asgard, there was still some underlying tension there. But despite that Steve did respect him, and it seemed to go both ways, as much as Tony respected anyone.

“He said the keys would be delivered in the next few days, but if we wanted to send things over ahead of time that would be fine.”

Steve let the pencil he’d been holding fall against the paper over the beginnings of a figure taking shape there. Tony had mentioned that when rebuilding Stark Tower, he and Pepper had planned for some adjustments and put in extra rooms for the other Avengers. Apparently the offer had been sincere.

Steve looked around the apartment. It wasn’t terrible, and there were some nice memories here.

“Do you want to move?”

Peggy shrugged and looked at the file in her hands. “I don’t see why not. It’s a central location, and I’m sure the lift doesn’t break down twice a week there.”

“You say that like you actually use it.”

“It’s the principle,” she said with a sniff of derision.

“I could carry you up the stairs, if it bothered you that much.”

“If you want to stay, we can say no.” Peggy pointed out.

Steve looked down at the sketch he’d started. It was Peggy, stretched out on the couch, just the way he remembered her from the night he’d proposed. There were good memories here, but if he’d learned anything in the past six months, it was that you can make good memories somewhere new.

“No, I think, we should go. For a while at least.”

Peggy smiled.

–

Living in Avengers Tower had many benefits, but the one Peggy enjoyed the most was the view. From the roof or nearly any floor, the city stretched out all around, like a sea.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Steve asked, as he wrapped himself around her, pressed against her back tightly.

“It’s home.”

And, for now, that was enough.


End file.
